Fractured
by weirdwire
Summary: Jou reflects on the direness of his future, and the numbness he feels is growing within him. Will his wounds mend themselves, or will they destroy him from the outside in? Potential SxJ


Fractured

"I'm going to tear you to pieces!"

The voice rang clear as a bell in Joey's head. A voice that rocked him to the base of his spine and echoed along every nerve. To every bruise and cut. To the very center of his heart and reverbrated back with an intensity that could shatter his skeleton.

He couldn't take it. He passed out moments later.

And when he woke up there was nothing but pain. Searing along his broken skin, tearing within his body. Filling him with resentment and taking away his resolve. It left him broken and torn, lying in blood. In pieces of himself.

Just like his father said.

That was one thing he could rely on. The fact that, although misused, a promise was a promise to his dad. That's why he looked forward to the day the man would say "I'm gonna kill you, boy…". He awaited that day anxiously, like a child awaited his birthday. He couldn't wait for the day he'd die.

Of course he'd never let anyone know this. Which was why, though he'd thought about it, he'd never try to kill himself. It was much too big a burden to throw upon his commerade's. Although he was sure they all were aware of the situation at home, he was also sure they were unaware of how dire the situation was. And if they were, there was nothing they could do.

Joey sat up, straining from the all too familiar shock of pain near the base of his tailbone. The blood on his naked skin began to dry and crack, save for the portion of his body that had lay in the puddle underneath him. Every drip that rolled off his bruised abdomen, every slowly healing scratch and tear on his back, his whole body screamed that he shouldn't have survived.

But he always did.

His dad had a knack for finishing just before his body would give completely, whether by instinct or something else. Sometimes Joey wondered if there was a tiny little bit of his dad that still cared about him. And sometimes he felt like his father let him live because he didn't want to clean up the mess he'd created. Because Joey, naked and weak would always mop up the blood and wash his clothes, before he even considered taking a bath or going to bed. Because he couldn't help it. As much as he hated the bastard, he loved him, which seemed to be a defining theme in the teen's life.

After he'd cleaned up his dad's "torture chamber of choice", this time the kitchen, he limped helplessly into the bathroom, falling to his knees next to the tub. He leaned over the edge, reaching a hand up to weakly turn the nozzles and plug the drain. This used to be the point where he'd burst into tears. Where all the anger and rage mixed with desperation and fear and exploded into merciless sobbing. Ironicly, it was these very emotions that numbed him. He'd stopped caring about what his father, or anyone else for that matter, did to him.

Yes, he would react in front of his friends or sister. He'd defend himself to the ends of time if it made them happy, to see "normal, boisterous Joey." He'd do anything to make them happy. But inside, he didn't care. When Seto Kaiba would tease and put him down, he really didn't care. Hell, between Seto and his father, he'd grown used to it long ago. But if he didn't react, his friends would worry, and the last thing he wanted was for them to worry.

The warm water rose to meet his nose, jogging his mind from its reverie and making his hand shoot up to turn the nozzle off. He rather gracelessly crawled into the tub, making the water rise and flood over the edge. He looked at the water quickly covering the floor and soaking into the brown carpet that stretched from the bathroom door into his bedroom, and cursed in a light voice. He relaxed into the tub, deciding to deal with that particular dilemma later.

The reawakened blood on his skin swirled into the water, turning it a sickish pink. He took a breath and slid down further, propping his thin legs against the wall so his top portion was completely submerged. The blood that once caked his blonde locks together dissolved and darkened the water. His hair waved gently under the water and he reached up to run his fingers through it, always in a bit of wonder at the angelic quality it took underwater. That actually made sense, seeing as how water can distort any image, much like a shattered mirror, because there was nothing really angelic about him.

Joey quickly used his legs to push himself up, gasping for air. His once "angelic" hair now stuck to his head and neck uncomfortably. He slicked the hair back a bit to get it out of his uniquely honey-colored eyes and searched the edges of the tub for some soap or shampoo, a search that lead to no result. He didn't worry about that too much though. He was one of the few students at his school who looked forward to his first period gym class, though soley because he could take a "real" shower. He only had to make sure he was either first out or last in, usually the latter, to avoid anyone seeing the extent of his father's doings. This of course ment he was late for, and failing, literature class. Like he wanted to read a bunch of stupid books written by some old, dead guys anyway.

No shampoo and soap usually ment no clean, or close to clean, towels. Which ment that after he'd unplugged the drain he trudged through the soaked bathroom floor and hall naked, into his room where he wrapped himself in his only blanket, shivering from the cold air, and flung himself fairly painfully onto the bare mattress under the unprotected, cracked window.

He looked through said window into the overcast night sky, only able to make out the faint glow of the moon through the clouds. That moment served as an interesting metaphor for his life right then. The fact that he could barely see the light from the moon, didn't mean that it wasn't there, or that he'd never see it's full glow. He just never knew when the clouds would part and let the mystic light through. He didn't even know if he'd live long enough to see the clouds part again.

That made him sad, for the first time in a long time.

He sighed and rolled over with a slight wince, curling into a ball and hiding his head under the blanket, unaware of the bright shaft of moonlight that fell on his back.

* * *

Hello, just a nifty little author-ramble! Thanks for reading and please review! I might continue this or I might leave it. What do you think? Oh yes! I used English-dub names! -gets hurted by rabid fangirls- 

Love and Kisses and Molestation all around,

WW


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